


Rest your hand in mine

by Ailendolin



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Found Family, Hurt Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani Needs a Hug, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Needs a Hug, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28812828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailendolin/pseuds/Ailendolin
Summary: “I think it would be better if we slept separately tonight,” Nicky says.The words are soft and quiet, as if Nicky almost doesn’t dare to speak them. He’s still standing in the hallway when Joe turns around to stare at him, worrying his lip. His eyes are fixed on the floor as if his mind is off somewhere far away, somewhere Joe can’t follow.After Merrick's lab, Nicky is not okay.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 61
Kudos: 442





	Rest your hand in mine

**Author's Note:**

> Hello new fandom! I know everyone and their mother has already done a post-movie fic for Nicky and Joe, and I hate that I'm late to the party because I saw The Old Guard for the first time only three weeks ago. Still, I couldn't resist writing my own little fic about what might have happened after they all leave the lab and I hope my take on it brings you as much joy as it brought me. 
> 
> I'm not a native English speaker, so if you find any mistakes please don't hesitate to point them out to me. 
> 
> **Warnings:** Mentions of torture, a very brief mention of suicide, mentions of temporary deaths, canon-typical violence and swearing.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Old Guard or any characters mentioned in the story. The title of the story comes from the song "The Song of Hope (Duet)" from the Lord of the Rings Musical.

**Rest your hand in mine**

_Soft now, my love and rest your hand in mine  
Feel my love, I am here  
Always, my love, forever by your side  
Love immortal, love undying_

**The Song of Hope (Duet) – The Lord of the Rings Musical**

They’re all exhausted. It’s almost midnight and Joe can see the last few days etched deeply into everyone’s faces as they slowly drag their tired bodies up the stairs to the safe house. They all look rattled, each in their own way and for their own reasons – as if they’ve seen a ghost and it haunts them still. So much has happened in the last few days. So much has changed.

Joe can barely stand to look at Booker.

He shifts his gaze to Andy instead and wants to weep. She is strong, always has been – stronger than any of them. But mortality now leaves her with gritted teeth where there were none before and hunched over against pain that refuses to go away. She is moving like she feels every single century she’s lived in her bones.

Nile is different. She is young – a baby in the eyes of people who have lived as long as they have. Her body has already healed from the fall, the pain gone from her limbs, but Joe can see that the decisions her heart will soon have to make already weigh heavily on her.

And then there is Nicky. Beautiful, brave Nicky who went through hell at Joe’s side with a smile on his face as if he wasn’t hurt. Joe wishes he could have spared his beloved the pain of the last few days, that he could have spared him the needles, the scalpels, the tweezers digging around for humanity’s salvation in his flesh, but he knows Nicky would hate him for the thought. Nicky would have wanted to be exactly where he was even if he’d had a say in the matter, and Joe can’t help but love him for it.

But he also can’t help but wish that Nicky had been somewhere far away, somewhere where Joe did not have to watch him get shot and Nicky did not have to see him get killed. That is always the worst. It hurts more than all the torture they’ve gone through over the last few centuries put together. The pain of watching the light fade from Nicky’s eyes is sheer unfathomable. There are no words in any written language alive or dead that can convey the agony that tears Joe apart every time Nicky is taken from him. He has withstood so much in his long life and he knows he can bear any kind of pain if he has to – but seeing Nicky get hurt, seeing Nicky _die_? That is something Joe is sure he will never get used to no matter how often it happens.

And it has happened a lot over the past few days. Some of Nicky’s deaths were so violent Joe is sure he will have nightmares about them for months at least. The way Nicky’s eyes widened in silent horror when the gun was put into his mouth, the way he tried to spare Joe his screams of agony by grinding his teeth together when the doctor drilled a hole into his head – Joe knows those moments will not leave him for a long time.

He feels his heartrate speed up just thinking about them.

He takes a deep, calming breath.

 _Nicky is alive_ , he reminds himself. Bloody and tired, perhaps, but still alive and currently busy making sure that there are no hidden traps waiting for them in the safe house, no signs that someone discovered the place while they’ve been away for the last year. Nicky always does this, making sure that they are safe, and it’s so familiar that Joe feels some of the tension in his chest ease as he watches Nicky check the rooms, one after another, first on the lower level and then on the upper as well.

Joe’s heart has calmed down by the time Nicky comes back downstairs and rejoins them in the kitchen. Joe gives him a soft smile in greeting that Nicky does not notice. He’s frowning at the windows, a worried crease between his brows, and Joe does not need him to voice his thoughts to know that Nicky’s still not convinced that they are safe here.

After what happened at their last safe house, Joe doesn’t blame him. He waits, giving Nicky all the time he needs, and finally Nicky pulls his gaze away from the windows. His tired eyes glance around the room until they settle on Andy and Nile.

“It is late. You should get some rest,” he tells them softly.

Joe, quietly, thinks, _So should you, my love._

He knows Nicky won’t, though, not right now, not until everyone else is settled for the night. Andy knows that too and gives him a tired smile and a gentle pat on the shoulder before she pushes herself out of her chair and drags her aching body upstairs. Nile bids them all goodnight as well. She follows Andy, the first aid kit from the car neatly tucked under her arm.

 _Good_ , Joe thinks.

Andy needs someone to take care of her and as much as he’d like to be that person Joe isn’t sure he can deal with the evidence of Andy’s newfound mortality up close right now. It’s too soon, the wound in his heart still too fresh, the sorrow for what will come for her, for them all, too deep. He doesn’t know how to handle this new Andy, how to hold her and care for her without causing her pain but he knows tonight of all nights is not the time to try and figure it out.

Not for the first time, Joe is glad that Nile is with them now.

His eyes drift back to Nicky as the creaking of the stairs becomes fainter. Nicky is watching Nile and Andy like a hawk, and Joe finds himself watching Nicky with the same quiet intensity. Something doesn’t feel right. He can’t quite put his finger on it because Nicky has always taken care of everyone else first and himself second after missions. It’s nothing new – except today Nicky almost seems jittery with nerves. His eyes keep glancing at the windows, at the stairs, at the front door while his fingers drum a rough, never-ending staccato rhythm against his thigh, and the moment Andy and Nile have vanished from sight he starts circling the room like a lion prowling in a cage.

It worries Joe. In over nine-hundred years of knowing him, he has rarely seen Nicky this restless. Out of all of them, Nicky is usually the one who remains calm and collected no matter how shitty the situation they find themselves in is. Joe used to admire that about him – this ability to push his emotions to the back of his mind and keep a clear head when things get bad. But now as he watches Nicky check the pantry for the third time in the last ten minutes, he’s not so sure his own quick-to-anger coping mechanisms might not be the healthier ones after all.

And speaking of anger: Booker is still with them in the kitchen, sitting slumped on one of the chairs as if he still belongs there. His head is bowed low so Joe can’t see his face, but Booker’s sole presence is enough to get his blood boiling – and it’s enough to keep Nicky pacing and on high alert, and that’s something Joe can’t have.

He kicks Booker’s leg to get his attention, and when Booker finally looks up Joe narrows his eyes at him and jerks his head towards the stairs, silently telling him to take a fucking hint and go to bed.

Not that Booker deserves a bed after what he’s done to them. Joe would love nothing more than to kick him out of the house so that Booker spends the night even a fraction as miserable as he and Nicky have been in the hands of Merrick and that awful woman who dared to call herself a doctor. But Joe knows it won’t stop his anger from burning hot inside him or his disappointment from running deep. And it is not his decision to make – at least not alone – so tonight Joe will tolerate Booker’s presence in their temporary home, but there is no reason he can’t let Booker know just how unhappy he is about it.

“Get lost,” he almost growls with another nod to the stairs. His voice is rough but Booker doesn’t flinch. He only lets out a long, weary sigh before he places both of his hands on the table and finally pushes his chair back. The sound is almost deafening in the quiet.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, unable to meet Joe’s eyes, and Joe wonders if he even knows what he’s apologizing for. Not that it matters since Joe is not in the mood for forgiveness. It will be a long time until he can even _think_ about forgiving Booker for what he did to their family without wanting to strangle him with his own bare hands.

With that thought in mind, he resolutely turns away from his old friend. Booker’s steps on the stairs are slow and heavy and Joe waits until he hears a door fall shut on the upper level before he takes a deep, steadying breath and goes to find Nicky. He finds him kneeling on the floor of the pantry and counting tins, almost compulsively, and Joe’s heart aches at the sight.

“Nicolò?” he asks gently so as not to startle Nicky. Nicky’s quiet mumbling stops abruptly. “I think we have enough food to get by for one day, yes?”

They probably won’t stay longer than that. It isn’t safe, not this close to London. Joe knows Nicky knows that, was the one to point it out in the car only an hour ago after all, and yet the reminder seems necessary.

For one long moment Nicky remains still and silent. Then some of the tension drains from his body, and he sighs before he pushes himself to his feet with a quiet, “Yes, you are right.”

He walks past Joe without touching him – an incredible feat given how narrow the pantry is, and a deliberate movement on Nicky’s part. While they are not attached at the hip – never have been – physical contact is important to them. After over nine-hundred years together, it is almost second nature for them to reach out and take comfort in each other’s touch, especially after missions that go as horribly wrong as this one did.

To have Nicky shy away from him now when Joe can clearly see that something is troubling him hurts more than Joe is willing to admit. He trails after Nicky, a little lost, and watches almost helplessly as Nicky rakes a trembling hand through his hair. A fragment of bone drops to the floor with an ugly, quiet sound and Joe flinches. Nicky’s hand stills mid-motion. He looks over his shoulder, first at the bloody piece of bone on the tiles and then at Joe. There’s an unreadable expression on his face as if he can’t quite comprehend what just happened.

“Mi dispiace,” Nicky finally whispers. _I’m sorry._

His eyes are dulled by more than bone-weary exhaustion.

Joe takes one careful step closer but doesn’t reach for Nicky like he wants to, unsure if his touch is wanted. Instead he waves Nicky’s apology away with a gentle shake of his head and tries to muster a reassuring smile. “Let us go and get cleaned up and then we can sleep. Tomorrow will be a better day.”

Nicky nods as if in a daze and makes for the stairs. Joe follows him, just like he always does and always will. Light shines out from under the first three doors in the upper hallway, and Joe is glad this particular safe house is one of their larger and more modern ones. As much as he doesn’t mind sharing a bedroom with the rest of his family, he knows there are times when they all need their own space to process things, if only for a little while.

And this, _today_ , is definitely one those times.

He knows this, and yet he is still taken aback when Nicky does not follow him into the room they usually share.

“I think it would be better if we slept separately tonight,” Nicky says. The words are soft and quiet, as if Nicky almost doesn’t dare to speak them. He’s still standing in the hallway when Joe turns around to stare at him, worrying his lip. His eyes are fixed on the floor as if his mind is off somewhere far away, somewhere Joe can’t follow.

That uneasy feeling Joe has had since they entered the safe house increases tenfold. This is not right. Nicky has never asked this of him in all the years they have been together. Not even once. They always go to bed together, even when they have been fighting and are angry at each other. It’s an unspoken rule, one they’ve never broken before.

Until now, apparently.

The pit in Joe’s stomach grows.

“Nicolò,” he says, about to retrace his steps back to Nicky’s side when Nicky holds up one of his hands and shakes his head.

Joe freezes.

“Just for tonight, yes?” Nicky asks, nearly _begs_ , and Joe feels rooted to the spot. He doesn’t know what’s going on, doesn’t know how to fix this, and then Nicky looks up at him with a smile that’s meant to be reassuring but only causes Joe’s heart to break more definitely. It reminds him of the lab, of the way Nicky stayed silent throughout the treatment, the _torture_ they endured, because he knew his screams would echo in Joe’s head for weeks after that.

He did that for Joe, and Joe can’t help but think that whatever Nicky thinks he’s going to accomplish by staying away from him right now, he’s doing this for Joe as well. Protecting the people he loves is what Nicky does – sometimes by being the hero who saves the day, sometimes by doing something as simple as preparing food to make sure none of them go hungry. It is not necessary, never has been, but it is who Nicky is. Joe cannot deny that, cannot deny Nicky to do what he feels he must if it helps ease the pain of the past few days, and it is for that reason that he lets him go despite the ache he feels spreading in his heart.

“Joe?” Nicky says hesitantly when the silence between them stretches too long. He sounds unsure in a way Joe has rarely heard him, and it is enough for him to blink his eyes to clear his head. There’s a broken look in Nicky’s eyes that calls him forward like a siren’s call.

He stops just out of reach and holds out his hand. 

“May I?” he asks quietly.

Nicky gives him silent permission with a nod and Joe finally crosses that last bit of distance between them. Nicky’s skin is cold beneath his fingers, so much so that Joe presses a kiss against each of his knuckles, willing warmth back into them with his lips.

“I do not know what is going on with you,” he begins softly. “But whatever it is, I will be here for you, my love,” he whispers against Nicky’s skin. “Always.”

Nicky swallows hard. “Grazie,“ he breathes in relief before pressing a kiss of his own against Joe’s fingers. “Ti amo.”

Joe smiles at him even though it hurts. “I love you too.”

He watches silently as Nicky walks away from him. It’s one of the hardest things Joe’s ever done, letting him go. Nicky does not look back at him as he makes his way down the hallway, not even once – as if he knows his resolve to leave will crumble if he does, and Joe takes some comfort in the knowledge that this is hard for Nicky too.

At the end of the hallway, the bathroom door falls shut with a quiet click and just like that, Joe finds himself suddenly alone in a house full of people. He stays in the doorway, listening for the sound of the shower turning on. When it comes, it’s faint but still discernible enough for Joe to finally force himself to turn away from the sight of the closed bathroom door. He walks into the bedroom – a room that was always meant to be shared – and closes the door softly behind him. Looking at the carefully made bed he last slept in over a year ago, he suddenly feels at a loss.

Nicky should be here with him instead of down the hallway in the shower, alone and pulling broken bone and brain matter and all kinds of other things Joe doesn’t want to think about out of his hair. They have a carefully honed routine for missions like this, mission that go horrible wrong . It ensures that they will never have to deal with the fallout on their own, that they can reassure each other with whispered words and reverent touches that they are alright.

Joe was never meant to be standing in this room on his own. He was meant to be with Nicky in the shower down the hallway right now, gently tilting Nicky’s head forward so he can carefully wash away the evidence of this horrible day. He was meant to be running a washcloth over the plains of Nicky’s body until all the blood, sweat and grime of their ordeal are finally gone from his beloved’s skin and he can help Nicky into his favorite comfort clothes – clothes that used to be Joe’s a lifetime ago. He was meant to lead Nicky to bed so he can hold him in his arms and murmur endless declarations of love against his warm skin until Nicky relaxes enough to fall asleep and Joe can allow himself to follow him.

He does not know how he is supposed to do any of that without Nicky. He feels his absence in everything he does, from stripping down in the ensuite bathroom and taking a shower to rinse his skin of the signs of their torture to settling down on his side of the bed beneath the old, dusty blanket. Throughout all of this, the space next to him remains painfully empty, and when Joe closes his eyes and fists his restless hands in the sheets to give them something to hold onto, he is not ashamed of the tears he lets fall.

Eventually, the bone-deep exhaustion he feels is overwhelming enough to make him succumb to sleep. He does not rest, though. His right hand instinctively reaches for Nicky’s body next to him just like his leg searches for its usual resting place between Nicky’s. Even unconscious, Joe misses Nicky’s warmth against his skin, the sound of his soft breaths in his ears, the way his hair smells up close.

It is the absence of all of that and more that pulls him from sleep not even an hour after he has closed his eyes.

Wiping a hand over his tired face, Joe rolls onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. The house around him is silent – not unnaturally, dangerously so but in a way that tells Joe that sleep is not eluding his friends like it is him. He wonders if Nicky is lying awake right now as well, just as exhausted and unhappy with the situation as he is.

And then Joe wonders _where_ Nicky actually is – because all the rooms upstairs are taken and there is nothing downstairs but the kitchen, another bathroom and what functions as a living area but resembles more a weapons’ room than an actual living room if Joe is being honest.

He frowns. A _weapons_ ’ room.

Abruptly, Joe sits up, the blanket pooling in his lap, forgotten, as his eyes widen in realization. Of course Nicky would have chosen to stay in the one room that holds more weapons than some military bases and offers a good view of all possible downstairs entry points on top of it. For someone as intent on protecting his loved ones as Nicky seemed earlier, it was the perfect spot to keep watch. Joe can almost see him curled up on that ratty old sofa they’ve never bothered to replace, gun aimed at the door and sword within easy reach as he lies awake in the dark, alone and tense, ready for a fight.

Joe feels his heart aching at thought.

He doesn’t want Nicky to be down there, far away from the people he loves and who love him in return, and suffer through the long night alone for whatever noble reason his brilliant mind has come up with for this self-imposed isolation. He wants Nicky back in his arms, safe and where he belongs, wants to feel Nicky’s heart beating beneath his hand to keep his nightmares at bay and give Nicky the same reassurance in return. He wants him to feel that Joe is still there, that he’s okay despite everything that happened to them – that they are _both_ okay.

Joe is too tired and worried to resist his heart’s calling for the love of his life. He knows he’s going against Nicky’s wishes as he swings his legs over the side of the bed and silently makes his way downstairs on sock-clad feet, and he feels bad about it. He does. But the thought that Nicky might need him, that Nicky might not be okay but suffering alone while Joe is right here and able to help, makes him feel even worse. He’s willing to risk his beloved’s anger for that, has risked far more over the last few centuries to find his way back to Nicky’s side.

And yet he does not wish to upset Nicky if there is nothing amiss, so when he reaches the ground floor Joe vows he will only steal a quick glance into the living room to see if Nicky is as peacefully asleep as Joe hopes he is. If that’s the case Joe will go back upstairs and leave him be just like Nicky asked him to earlier. But if he is not –

Joe doesn’t have time to finish that thought for the sound of harsh breaths, interrupted by quiet hitches that tear at his heart, reaches his ears. He rounds the corner before he even realizes that his feet are moving and finds Nicky sitting on the sofa, tightly pressed into the corner that allows him the best view of both the kitchen window and the front door. He has his legs drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. One of his hands is holding a gun but it is not aimed at anything, not with the way Nicky’s head is buried against the pair of flannel trousers Joe distantly recognizes as his own.

His shoulders are shaking in silent despair.

Faced with the sight of the most important person in the world to him struggling against invisible demons while desperately trying to stay quiet at the same time, Joe finds himself unable to hold his own silence any longer.

“Nicolò,” he whispers.

Nicky’s head snaps up at the soft sound and before Joe has the chance to move, Nicky’s fingers tighten around the gun and Joe finds himself staring down its barrel. He can see Nicky’s finger twitch on the trigger and for a second he thinks Nicky will shoot him in blind panic but no bullet finds him. Nicky’s eyes are impossibly wide in the darkness as they slowly blink, and a look of pure horror passes over his face when he finally realizes who he is aiming his gun at.

“Yusuf,” he rasps out, sounding as stricken and shaken as Joe feels. When Nicky lowers the weapon so that it is no longer pointed at Joe, Joe takes it as his cue to come closer.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Nicky begs, trying to stop him with an anguished shake of his head. “Stay back.” 

Joe does not. He comes closer, step by step, until he can drop down to his knees in front of Nicky.

“Do not ask me to stay away from you when you are in pain,” he begs, forcing himself not to reach out to Nicky like he wants to. “I cannot stand it.”

Nicky squeezes his eyes shut for a second, almost in desperation, and when he opens them again there’s a wild, untamed nervousness in them. Out of the corner of his eye Joe can see Nicky’s fingers tightening their hold on the gun again. He knows Nicky won’t shoot him, not now that Nicky’s recognized him, but –

_Images of blood and bone and brain flash in his mind. The sound of a gunshot followed by deafening silence. Nicky’s vacant eyes staring at the ceiling._

Joe hastily blinks the memory away but now that the thought has been planted in his mind he can’t shake the fear that he’s about to see his beloved like that again, only this time caused by Nicky’s own hand. He tries to tell himself that Nicky would never do that, that there’s no reason for him to take his own life when he’s never done it before. But there is a darkness in Nicky’s eyes now, one Joe has only ever seen a handful of times before in their nine-hundred years of existence, and it scares him.

It scares him _a lot_ , enough for him to ask Nicky to give him the gun. He forces his voice to remain calm and not betray the inner turmoil he feels, but Nicky’s whole body still tenses as if preparing for a fight.

“No,” he says with another, more panicked shake of his head. His eyes flick back and forth between Joe and the front door with an intensity Joe recognizes from their missions. “You need to _leave_.”

It’s only when Nicky adds those desperate words that Joe finally realizes that he’s got this all horribly wrong. Nicky isn’t drowning in despair so dark and hopeless that he wishes to leave this world behind. No – the reason he is quietly falling apart tonight is because he’s been trying so hard to protect them all this time, and yesterday he _failed_.

He did not, of course. None of them would ever think what happened was Nicky’s fault. But Joe has spent enough lifetimes at his side to know how his mind works, and right now Nicky’s thoughts are frayed so badly, both from the lingering after-effects of his head wound and the torture he’d endured as well as the abrupt changes that happened in their lives over the past few days, that he is literally unable to think straight. There is so much pain there, so much trauma they haven’t even begun to unpack yet, and for Nicky it all boils down to one thing: that the most important people in his life got hurt, and that he could not stop it.

Now that he knows what’s going on, why Nicky is acting the way he is, Joe makes the conscious decision to shift his body to the side so he isn’t directly between Nicky and the front door anymore. The moment Nicky has a clear line of sight again, Joe can see his muscles relax a fraction. Nicky’s eyes are trained on the door once more, fierce and determined and just a little bit too bright.

It brings back memories of the night they were taken hostage. Nicky had been gazing at written words instead of solid wood back then, reading a book Joe can’t remember the title of when the bomb went off and their world exploded in fire and gas. The explosion had killed Booker instantly but Joe had lived a few precious seconds longer – long enough to see Nicky staggering to his feet on the other side of the room and reaching for his gun, his sword, _anything_ so he could come to their aid.

He’d never stood a chance, not as hurt as he was and with all those people storming their safe house – not when there was gas involved. Joe had realized that much in the few seconds it took for his eyes to close and his heart to stop beating. He doesn’t know what happened to Nicky after that, how he got captured. There hadn’t been time to talk about that particular aspect of that shitty night yet.

But if there’s one thing Joe _does_ know it’s that Nicky fought tooth and nail to keep him and the others safe. There is no doubt in his heart that Nicky did the best he could in an impossible situation. Nicky always does. He is doing it right now by sitting alone in the dark and aiming a gun at their front door on the off chance that history will repeat itself so soon.

Joe wants to weep for this brave, wonderful, loving man who holds his heart and is too kind for this world and always too hard on himself.

Slowly so as not to startle Nicky, he places one of his hands on the sofa – close to but not yet touching Nicky’s thigh.

“Do you still wish for me to leave?” he asks him softly.

A shudder goes through Nicky’s body and a shadow of sorrow and regret passes over his face. His eyes remain fixed on the door, though, still intent to keep them safe. Joe watches him blink once, then twice before Nicky almost imperceptibly shakes his head.

“No,” he admits in a broken whisper. “I could never truly wish for you to be gone from my side. You know this, Yusuf.”

Joe takes a deep breath and braces himself against the sea of emotions he finds himself drowning in upon hearing those soft words. The waves crash and break against his ribs and Joe welcomes them with a smile and lets them fill him with warmth.

“Then may I?” he asks softly and pats the empty space on the sofa beside Nicky.

“Si,” Nicky breathes. _Yes._

Joe pushes himself up from the floor and this time he does not hesitate to touch. He sits down close to Nicky and presses their shoulders together so he can feel Nicky’s warmth through the thin material of their shirts and Nicky can feel his own body heat in return. He means it as silent reassurance, a gesture that says _I am here and I will always be here_ , and when Nicky’s hand, the one holding the gun, begins to shake once more he knows that Nicky understood. The look on his beloved’s face becomes heartbreaking when his eyes fall away from the door to his trembling hand and Joe, as gently as he can, intervenes. His fingers are warm and strong as he wraps them around both the gun and Nicky’s hand, and Nicky sucks in a shuddering breath at the unexpected touch.

“It is okay to let down your guard,” Joe tells him softly. “We are safe now.”

Nicky lets out a small, wounded sound that hurts Joe more than anything that was done to him in that cursed lab. It pierces his heart and echoes in his soul like the cry of a seagull and brings with it pain so deep that Joe finds it hard to breathe.

“We thought that before and we were not,” Nicky whispers harshly. His eyes gleam with unshed tears in the darkness. “We thought that, and they took you. They _hurt_ you.”

“They hurt you too,” Joe quietly points out.

“I do not care about that,” Nicky tells him, dismissing his concern with a shake of his head, and Joe cannot stand it. He brings up his other hand and trails his fingers over the back of Nicky’s head, right where the bullet left a gaping hole only hours ago.

“But I do, Nicolò,” he murmurs as his thumb gently strokes over the tender, new skin. “I do care about that very much.”

Nicky goes still beneath his hand. He makes a soft noise, quiet and full of horror, and Joe is right there when the gun slips from his trembling fingers. He places it on the floor, out of reach, without ever taking his eyes off Nicky’s crumbling face. “It’s alright,” he murmurs.

“Yusuf,” Nicky chokes out, devasted for an entirely different reason now, and Joe’s name on his lips is both an apology and a desperate plea for forgiveness. Joe accepts them both readily. He lets his hand drop down to Nicky’s neck and gently guides him closer until Nicky is finally in his arms. There is no resistance. Nicky buries his face in the small space between Joe’s shoulder and his neck like he’s done a million times before, and when his arms come up around him to hold him tight Joe feels blunt fingernails digging into the soft material of his shirt as ragged breaths begin to dampen his skin.

He lets out a relieved sigh and gently murmurs Nicky’s name in reassurance. It’s a declaration of love, a promise, a vow, and when Nicky’s breathing hitches with the echoes of more painful memories and burdens than one single person has ever been meant to bear, Joe holds him even closer.

“I am here,” he whispers against Nicky’s temple. “You do not have to do this alone.”

Nicky shudders in his arms. His fingers dig deeper into Joe’s skin as the first tears fall against Joe’s shirt without a sound, almost as if Nicky is ashamed of them.

“I know,” he chokes out and there is so much pain in his voice that Joe’s heart twists in shared agony. “I know that but – I can’t stop thinking about it, Yusuf. The explosion, how they dared to touch you. I could not stop it.” His breathing hitches dangerously close to panic. “I could not stop _any_ of it.”

Joe tightens their embrace. “That is not your fault, Nicolò,” he says quietly but firmly.

“I should not have read that stupid book,” Nicky goes on as if he hasn’t heard him. “I should have been checking the perimeter. I should have been at your side. I should –“

Joe’s heart cannot take any more of Nicky’s pain. In one quick movement he grips Nicky’s arms and pushes him back so he can look at him.

“How could you have known that Booker would betray us?” he asks and Nicky falters mid-sentence. But Joe is not done yet. “How could you have known someone was coming for us in the middle of the night, that they knew where we were? How could you have known any of the things they had planned for us after that?”

Nicky looks away from him and shakes his head in denial. His whole frame is trembling with barely concealed emotions. “I should have –“

“ _No_ ,” Joe says firmly. “No more should haves. You need to _listen_.” He waits until Nicky’s eyes find his again before he goes on, a little more gently. “There is nothing you could have done to change what happened, Nicolò. Nothing. This one is on Booker and him alone.”

His words bring new tears to Nicky’s eyes and he chokes out, “Because we failed him. We _failed_ him, Yusuf.”

With that the tension drains from his body and Nicky lets his head hang in defeat, just like a puppet with its strings cut. His body starts to tremble with muted sobs of grief and guilt, and Joe feels each and every one of them as if they were his own. His own eyes are brimming with tears and it’s all he can do to pull Nicky back into his arms again before they fall.

“No, we didn’t,” he whispers softly as their heavy hearts rest against each other. “You cannot save a person who does not wish to be saved.”

It’s the truth, and like most truths it is painful and hard to accept. But Joe cannot change it, no matter how much he wishes he could, and he knows he will not do Nicky any favors if he lies. They have always been honest with each other and even though he knows his words cause Nicky pain, he does not regret them for they are what Nicky needs to hear right now.

What they both need to hear.

“He’s our _brother_ , Yusuf,” Nicky pleads – for forgiveness? Mercy? Joe is not sure. All he knows is that Nicky’s fingers are clutching his shirt so tightly the knuckles have turned white, that Nicky is in pain because their family is broken and he wants to fix it but does not know _how_.

And that, Joe realizes, is what he’s really angry about. It is not the kidnapping, the experiments, the pain and the deaths they’ve suffered that makes his blood boil. It’s Booker tearing them apart and leaving them behind to pick up the broken pieces as if their family, the lives they have built together over the centuries, are not important. They never had much in their long lives to begin with but they had each other at last, and Booker took that bond they shared and sold it to the highest bidder like it meant nothing.

Like _they_ meant nothing.

Anger burns within him, bright and hot and furious, but it does not last. It drains away almost as quickly as it came, leaving behind a bone-deep ache Joe is sure he will feel for months to come, maybe even years. He feels old suddenly, and tired. So very tired of it all.

He lets out a weary sigh against Nicky’s skin. “He may be our brother,” he says, “but that does not excuse what he has done. I will not have you carry the guilt for his mistakes, Nicolò. We are not responsible for the choices he made.”

Nicky takes in a shuddering breath before he admits in a broken whisper, “I do not want us to send him away, Yusuf.”

Joe nods, not surprised by Nicky’s words. He presses a kiss filled with love and sorrow against Nicky’s temple. “I know. And I love you for it.”

The choice has not yet been made but they both know that things cannot go back to the way they were before – at least not right away. They cannot operate as a team when they don’t trust each other, cannot be a family when their instinct tells them to expect an attack from within at any given moment. This night has already shown what that would be like, what keeping Booker with them would mean, especially for Nicky, and Joe does not want that kind of life for any of them. While he admires Nicky’s willingness to suffer through it for the sake of keeping their family together he does not share it. He wants Nicky to feel safe again, to be able to close his eyes without worrying about everyone else’s safety all the time – and as long as Booker is still with them, he knows that won’t happen.

“I will miss him,” Nicky suddenly whispers into the silence that has fallen between them. “Despite what he has done, I will miss him.”

Joe swallows hard when he finds the truth behind Nicky’s words echoing in his own heart. “I think we all will.”

He has been around long enough to know better than most that one can be angry at someone and yet love them still. He may not be able to stand the sight of Booker right now but that does not mean that Booker is no longer one of them. He is part of their family, their little brother. That will never change. They all just need a little time until the pain of his betrayal no longer overshadows the love they feel for him.

It’s that thought that finally calms the storm inside him. Joe closes his eyes with a weary sigh and allows one of his hands to trail across Nicky’s back in soothing circles. Every now and then, when an aborted sob makes Nicky’s body shudder in his arms, Joe leaves a reassuring kiss on the uncovered patch of skin on Nicky’s shoulder. It takes a while, but the longer Joe holds him the softer Nicky’s breathing becomes.

When Nicky finally unclenches his fingers from his shirt and starts leaning against him more heavily, Joe turns his face into Nicky’s neck and softly asks, “Do you want to go upstairs?”

Nicky’s muscles tense beneath his hands. It is all the answer Joe needs, even as Nicky says, “If you don’t mind, tonight I would rather stay here. With you.”

He emphasizes the last two words with a kiss to the soft skin behind Joe’s ear. Joe smiles as warmth and affection fill him along with the sensation of how _right_ this feels.

“Of course I do not mind, hayati,” he whispers.

As gently as he can he lays them both down on the narrow sofa so they have a clear view of the front door. Nicky’s back is pressed against his chest as their legs seek their usual resting places among each other, and when Nicky lets out a long breath and reaches for Joe’s hand Joe finally feels at peace.

“Think you will be able to sleep?” he whispers into Nicky’s neck. “I can keep watch if you’d like.”

Nicky holds their hands against his heart. “We both need sleep.”

The words mean _I love you_ and _thank you_ and _I am forever grateful to have you in my life_ all in one, and they make Joe’s heart swell. He presses one last lingering kiss against Nicky’s skin, right below the exit wound of the bullet that took his life so horribly only a few hours ago. Nicky’s hold on his hand tightens and it’s that quiet reassurance that they will be alright that finally makes Joe close his eyes.

He dreams of Malta that night, of blue skies, blue water and the most beautiful eyes he has ever seen.

When he wakes up the next morning, Nicky is still holding his hand and sleeping peacefully in his arms. No nightmares have disturbed his rest and even though Joe knows that will change in the days and weeks to come he is still grateful for the delay and the respite it brought them. 

He places a soft kiss on Nicky’s exposed shoulder just as Andy makes her way downstairs. She’s moving slowly as if she is still in pain. It’s a sight Joe knows he will have to get used to, but he doesn’t think it will ever be not hard, seeing her like this.

Their eyes meet across the room and when Andy nods at Nicky, the question clear in her eyes, Joe gives her a reassuring smile.

_We will be alright._

Andy smiles back at him, and even though she’s exhausted and more fragile than Joe has ever seen her throughout the years, she is also more radiant and full of life than ever before.

It gives him hope. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story and my take on Joe and Nicky! Kudos and comments are always appreciated :)
> 
> You can also find me [here](https://ailendolin.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if you'd like to chat.


End file.
